The Life of the World to Come (Company) Page 8

  “Where did Mummy go?” said Alec, not because he missed her at all but because he was beginning to be a little apprehensive about the way pieces of his world had begun vanishing. He picked up a shoebox and handed it to Sarah. She took it without looking at him, but he could see her face in the closet mirror. She closed her eyes tight and said:

  “She divorced your daddy, baby.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That means she doesn’t want to live with him anymore. She’s going to go away and live with some other people.” Sarah swallowed hard. “After all, she was never happy on the Foxy Lady after you came along.”

  Alec stared at her, dumbfounded. After a moment he asked: “Why didn’t Mummy like me? Everybody else does.”

  Sarah looked as though she wanted to cry. “Damballah!” she said, very softly. Then, in a light, normal tone of voice, she told him: “Well, I think she just never wanted to have children, with all the noise and mess a baby makes, and then a little boy running around and getting into everything. She and your daddy used to be very happy, but after you came it was spoiled for them.”

  Alec felt as though the ceiling had fallen in on him. What a terrible thing he’d done!

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and burst into tears.

  Then Sarah did that trick she could do, moving so fast you couldn’t see her move, and her arms were around him and she was rocking him, crooning to him, hiding him in her breasts.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she wept. “Oh, Alec, you mustn’t mind. You’re a good little boy, you hear me? You’re my sweet, good little winji boy, and Sarah will always love you no matter what. Don’t you ever forget that. When you grow up maybe you’ll understand, sometimes people have to obey orders and say things they don’t want to say at all? And”—her voice caught—“I’m sure you’ll always be a good little boy, won’t you, to make your poor daddy happy again?”

  “Uh huh,” Alec gasped. It was the least he could do, after he’d made Daddy so unhappy. His tears felt hot on his cheeks, in that cold room, and Sarah’s tears were like the hot rain that used to fall off Jamaica when there’d be lightning in the sky and Daddy would be yelling for him to get below because there was a storm coming.

  But a terrible storm did come, and swept away another part of the world.

  “What the hell did you go and tell him that for?” Lewin was shouting. Alec cowered on the stairs, covering his mouth with his hands.

  “It was the truth,” Sarah said in a funny unnatural voice. “He’d have found out sometime.”

  “My God, that’s all the poor baby needs, to think he’s responsible for the way that cold bitch acted,” raged Mrs. Lewin. “Even if it was true, how could you tell him such a thing? Sarah, how could you?”

  So then Sarah was gone too, and that was his fault for being a telltale. He woke up early next morning because the front door slammed, booming through the house like a cannon shot. Something made him get out of his bed and run across the icy floor to the window.

  He looked down into the street and there was Sarah, swinging away down the pavement with her lithe stride, bag over her shoulder. He called to her, but she never looked back.

  Everybody was very kind to him to make up for it. When he’d be sad and cry, Mrs. Lewin would gather him into her lap. Lewin told him what a brave big guy he was and helped him fix up his room with glowing star-patterns on the ceiling and an electronic painting of a sailing ship on his wall, with waves that moved and little people going to and fro on her deck. The other servants were nice, too, especially the young footman, Derek, and Lulu the parlormaid. They were newlyweds, attractive and very happy.

  Sometimes Lewin would hand them Alec’s identification disk and tell them to take him out for the day, so he could learn about London. They took him to the London Zoo to see the animal holoes, and to the British Museum, and Buckingham Palace to see where Mary III lived, or over to the Southwark Museum to meet and talk to the holo of Mr. Shakespeare. They took him shopping, and bought him exercise equipment and a complete holo set for his room, with a full library of holoes to watch. There were thirty different versions of Treasure Island to choose from; once Alec knew what it was about, he wanted them all. The older versions were the most exciting, like the bloodcurdling tales Sarah had used to tell him about the Spanish Main. Even so, they all had a prologue edited in that told him how evil and cruel pirates had really been, and how Long John Silver was not really a hero.

  Gradually the broken circle began to fill in again, because everybody in the house in Bloomsbury loved Alec and wanted him to be happy. He loved them, too, and was grateful that they were able to love him back, considering what he’d done.

  But Alec understood now why Daddy had preferred to live at sea. Everybody was always on at him, in the friendliest possible way, about what a lot there was to do in London compared to on a cramped old boat; but it seemed to him that there was a lot more not to do in London.

  There was grass, but you mustn’t walk on it. There were flowers, but you mustn’t pick them. There were trees, but you mustn’t climb them. You must wear shoes all the time, because it was dirty and dangerous not to, and you mustn’t leave the house without a tube of personal sanitizer to rub on your hands after you’d touched anything other people might have touched. You couldn’t eat or drink a lot of the things you used to, like fish or milk, because they were illegal. You mustn’t ever get fat or “out of shape,” because that was immoral. You mustn’t ever tell ladies they had nice bubbies, or you’d go to hospital and never ever come out.

  Mustn’t play with other children, because they carried germs; anyway, other children didn’t want to play with you, either, because you carried germs they didn’t want to catch. You were encouraged to visit historical sites, as long as you didn’t play with anybody but the holograms. It had been interesting talking to Mr. Shakespeare, but Alec couldn’t quite grasp why nobody was allowed to perform any of his plays anymore, or why Shakespeare had felt obliged to explain that it had been unfair to build his theatre, since doing so had robbed the people of low-income housing. He had seemed so forlorn as he’d waved good-bye to Alec, a transparent man in funny old clothes.

  There was something to apologize for everywhere you turned. The whole world seemed to be as guilty as Alec was, even though nobody he met seemed to have made their own mummies and daddies divorce. No, that was Alec’s own particular awful crime, that and telling on Sarah so she had to go away.

  Sometimes when he was out with Derek and Lulu, walking between them and holding their hands, strangers would stop and compliment Derek and Lulu on how well-behaved their son was. After the first time this had happened and the stranger had walked on, Alec had looked up at them and asked:

  “Can we play that I’m your little boy really?”

  Derek and Lulu had exchanged glances over his head.

  “Okay,” said Derek at last, and Lulu coughed. So they played that game for a while, on the outings, and Alec would call them Mummy and Daddy and they’d call him Son. It had seemed as though it would be a great game, having parents who were young and in love, but gradually Alec realized that he was making them uncomfortable, so he let it drop.

  He really was doing his very best to be good and happy, but he felt as though he were a beach float with a pinprick hole in it somewhere: you couldn’t see where it was, but bit by bit the air was going out of him, and he was sinking down, and soon he’d be a very flat little boy.

  Lewin took a hand and ordered more holoes for Alec, including one of a twelve-part history series called Legends of the Seven Seas. It was delivered by parcel courier one day when Lewin was out, and the butler arrived home to find the opened package on the front hall table. Sorting through it, he saw that the only ring missing was the episode about the Golden Age of Piracy. He smiled, realizing that Alec must have run upstairs with it at once.

  His smile faded, though, as he examined the chapter summaries on the remaining rings and realized that the series was intended f
or adults, not children. Irritated, he pulled out his buke and consulted the catalogue from which he’d ordered; not a word about adult content!

  When Lewin got to the top of the landing outside Alec’s room, he could hear an unholy commotion coming from within. He opened the door and beheld in midair a bloodstained deck, littered with wounded and dying pirates, though one was still on his feet and fighting like a demon. He was an immense man, with wild hair and beard. Blood poured from a dozen wounds in his body, but he kept battling, advancing with drawn cutlass on a Royal Navy lieutenant. Blood, smoke, sparks striking from steel blades, and musket fire echoing back over the pearl-gray water of Okracoke Inlet … and little Alec taking it all in with wide eyes, and fists clenched tight.

  “Here now!” Lewin rushed to the holoplayer, shut it down. The image froze in midair and faded, with a second officer’s sword stopped in the act of slicing toward the pirate’s head.

  “No!” Alec jumped to his feet in anguish. “Bring him back! You have to bring him back!”

  “That’s not the sort of thing little boys should see,” explained Lewin, pulling the ring from the machine.

  “But he was the best pirate ever!” wailed Alec, beginning to cry.

  “No, he wasn’t,” said Lewin desperately. “He was a bad man, son, understand?”

  “No, he wasn’t, he was brave! They shooted him and he just laughed,” Alec protested.

  “No, no, son—”

  “Yes he was!” screamed Alec, and ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  “Now then, Alec, be a good boy and come out,” said Lewin, pulling at the handle. No good; Alec had locked the door, and stood on the other side sobbing in fury.

  “Here, I’ll tell you what,” said Lewin, crouching unsteadily. “I’ll tell you a story about a real sea hero, shall I? You want to hear about, er, Admiral Nelson? He was the bravest man who ever sailed.”

  Silence on the other side of the door for a moment, but for Alec’s gasped breath.

  “Was he a pirate?” said Alec at last.

  “Well, no, but—but he was a sort of a rogue,” said Lewin, trying to remember the details of a holo he had once seen on the subject of Lady Hamilton. “But nobody minded, because he saved England. See, there was this evil guy named Napoleon, one time. And he wanted to rule all of Europe and, er, make everybody do everything just the same. And he had secret police and all that.”

  “What?” Alec asked muffledly.

  “You know, telltales that spied on everybody for Napoleon. And England was the only place that was still free. So there was this place called Trafalgar, see, and Napoleon sent all his ships out—and Nelson commanded the English fleet, and blew the bad guys right out of the water.”

  “With cannons?”

  “Oh, yeah, hundreds of ‘em. Even though he only had one arm and, er, I think his eye was gone, too. He gave ’em in service to his country. He always did his duty, see. And Napoleon’s cowards shot him on the deck of his own ship, so he died, which was dreadful sad, and all the people in England were sorry, but he’d won such a famous victory that Englishmen never ever were slaves. So everybody loved brave Lord Nelson.”

  Lewin heard Alec unlocking the door. It was pulled back. The little boy looked up at him, solemn.

  “Does he have a museum and we can go talk to him?”

  Lewin blinked in puzzlement a moment, and then remembered Shakespeare’s hologram. “Er—no, son, he doesn’t. But there’s a nice museum in Greenwich we can visit next Sunday. Lots of Nelson stuff there.”

  So Alec emerged from the bathroom and went down to tea like a good boy. He was still frightened and strangely exhilarated by what he’d seen. Blackbeard and Horatio Nelson had become intermingled in his mind; he dreamed that night of immense bearded unstoppable heroes, blood, smoke, and flame.

  One morning at the breakfast table when Lewin had said, in his jolliest old-granddad voice, “And what would you like to do today, Alec?” Alec said:

  “Please, can we go down to the river and look at the ships?”

  “Of course you can! Want Derek and Lulu to take you?”

  “No,” said Alec. “Just you.”

  Lewin was very pleased at that, and as soon as breakfast was done they put on their coats and called for the car. In minutes they had been whisked down to the Thames where all the pleasure craft were moored. Their driver switched off the agmotor, the car settled gently to the ground, and Alec and Lewin got out and walked along.

  “Oh, now look at that one,” Lewin said. “She’s a beauty, eh? Three masts! Do you know, back in the old days a ship like that would have had to have carried a great big crew just to manage her sails. They’d have slept packed into her hold like dominoes in a box, there had to be that many. And when a storm was coming and the captain wanted to strike sails, you know what he’d have to do? He’d order his sailors to climb up into the rigging and cling there, like monkeys in trees, and reef every one of those sails themselves with their own hands, clinging on as tight as they could whilst they did it! Sometimes men would fall off, but the ships just sailed on.”

  “Wow,” said Alec. He’d never seen Reggie or Bob or Cat do much more than load cargo or mix drinks. Suddenly his face brightened with comprehension. “So that’s why the squire has to have all those guys on the Hispaniola, even if they’re really pirates!”

  Lewin stared a moment before he realized what Alec meant. “Treasure Island, right,” he said. “That was why. No robot guidance to do it all. No computer tracking the wind and weather, and deciding when to shorten sail or clap it on. You had to have people doing it. Nobody would let you build ships like this anymore, if that was how they worked.”

  “Cool,” said Alec. They walked on, past the rows of pleasure craft where they sat at moorings, and Lewin pointed out this or that kind of rigging or latest luxury feature available to people who could afford such things. He pointed out the sort of ship he’d own himself if he had the money, and pointed out the sort of ship Alec ought to own when he grew up and became the seventh earl of Finsbury.

  They walked for what seemed like miles, and Alec began to lag behind; not because he was tired, for he was an extraordinarily strong child with a lot of stamina, but because he was fighting the need to cry.

  He had been playing a game inside himself, imagining that the next ship they’d see would be the Foxy Lady, and his daddy would be on board, having just dropped anchor for a surprise visit. Of course, he knew his daddy was somewhere in the Caribbean, he knew the Lady wouldn’t really be there. But what if she were? And of course she never was, but maybe the next ship would be. Or the next. Or the next.

  But Alec wasn’t very good at lying to himself.

  “Alec?” Lewin turned around to see where Alec had got to. “What’s wrong?”

  He walked close swiftly and saw the tears standing in Alec’s pale blue eyes, and understood at once. “You poor little sod,” he muttered in compassion, and reached for a tissue and held it out to the child. Alec misunderstood his gesture and buried his face in Lewin’s coat, wrapping his arms around him.

  “Hell,” Lewin gasped, and looking around wildly he attempted to pry Alec loose. “Alec, let go! For God’s sake, let go! Do you want me to get arrested?”

  Alec fell back from him, bewildered.

  “Is it against the law to hug in London?” he asked.

  “It is against the law for any unlicensed adult to embrace a child,” Lewin told him soberly. “If there’d been a public health monitor looking our way I’d be in trouble right now.”

  “But Sarah used to hug me all the time. And Mrs. Lewin does.”

  “Sarah was a professional child care specialist, Alec. She’d passed all sorts of scans and screening to get her license. Same as mummies and daddies have to do, before they’re allowed to have children. And the missus—well, she only hugs you at home, where nobody can see.”

  Alec gulped, wiping away tears. He understood now. It must be a law like no booze or bare tits, tha
t you mustn’t be a telltale about. “I’m sorry,” he said shakily. “I didn’t think it would get anybody in trouble.”

  “I know, old man.” Lewin crouched down to Alec’s eye level, keeping a good meter between them. “It’s a good law, though, see. You have to understand that it was passed because people used to do terrible, horrible things to little kids, back in the old days.”

  “Like the two little boys in the Tower,” said Alec, rubbing his coat sleeve across his eyes.

  “Yeah. Sort of.” Lewin glanced downriver in the direction of Tower Marina. He decided that Alec had had quite enough sad memories for the day. Pulling out his communicator, he called for the car to come and take them home.

  That night, Lewin sat down at the household console. Thin-lipped with anger, he sent a message to Roger Checkerfield, advising him that it might be a good idea to talk to Alec once in a while. The bright letters shimmered on the screen a moment before vanishing, speeding through the ether to the bridge of the Foxy Lady. Lewin sat up all night waiting for a reply, but none ever came.

  “Alec?”

  Alec turned his face from contemplation of the painting on his wall. It seemed to him that if he could just pay close enough attention to it, long enough, he would be able to go into the picture, hear the steady crash of the sea under the ship’s prow, hear the wind singing in her lines, smell the salt breeze. He could open the little cabin door and slip inside or, better yet, take the wheel and sail away forever from sad London. Blue water!

  But Lewin and Mrs. Lewin looked so hopeful, so pleased with themselves, that he smiled politely and stood up.

  “Come see, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Lewin. “Someone’s sent you a present!”

  So he took her hand and they went up to the fourth floor of the house, into what was going to be his schoolroom next year. It had been freshly painted and papered. The workmen had built the cabinetry for the big screen and console that would link him to his school, but nothing had been installed yet.